I had lost all thought that she was my wife.
All time stopped in that fierce apocalypse.
She dozed, drowsy, exhausted from the swim
The riptide of death and the incessant overwhelming waves.
She had gone where I could not go.
Her life was her own no more mine,
And in silence she conversed with herself and with pain.
Where in all this ragbag of guts
Is such a mystery of man contained?
And why, not knowing my bride just then,
Did I fall in love with her again?
No comments:
Post a Comment